


He Knows

by livesybaby



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Ross and Joe bc thats a thing don't deny it, Smut, roseph, someone had to do it, took one for the team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:57:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livesybaby/pseuds/livesybaby
Summary: The Joe Tate/Ross Barton fic that everyone secretly wants





	He Knows

Ross remembers being at Home Farm a few years back, rifling through Chrissie White’s knicker drawer and smashing up possible antiques in a haphazard attempt to make their botched-up attempt at a break in look authentic. He thinks back to how Aaron - a Livesy back then, not a Dingle - refused to nick any of the goods, thought himself too high and mighty to be a petty thief like Ross but had then stolen Chrissie’s most prized possession… _her Husband_.

He’d laugh at the thought if he didn’t find it ironic how he’d relentlessly teased his gay sort-of enemy, sort-of mate but now found himself in quite the situation himself. Joe Tate had arrived out of no where with his flash car and inherited assets, he hadn’t been around the first time the Tate’s had ruled over Emmerdale but boy he wishes he could have seen the look on Charity’s face when she realised she’d been played. He’d been roped into some revenge type plan just a few weeks back, He and Cain weren’t friends, that much was obvious but they both shared a mutual interest, his daughter Debbie.

Debbie was the thin line of beauty between grace and danger, smiling sweetly as she fucked you over but relentlessly bringing you back in for more torture, Ross just couldn’t get enough. She was the first person he’d ever really felt anything for since Donna and maybe it was the love/hate Bonnie and Clyde style thing they had going on or maybe, just maybe he was a sucker for pain. Of course he’d agreed to help, danger to Ross was like oxygen, the adrenaline pumping through his veins and beating in his heart. He needed the blood-rush, needed the excitement, the euphoria and the added bonus of getting back into Debbie’s little black book was enough to sway his better judgement. 

The plan was simple, befriend Joe Tate. 

Joe was fit, loaded and sophisticated but his one downfall was trust, he had no friends - especially now his butler-slash-bezzie-mate had gone straight, obviously bored of putting up with some rich kids bullshit. Ross was the perfect option, he’d supposedly rescued Joe from a certain death - had his heart shredded by Debbie and hated the Dingles as much as he did, or so that’s what he’d told him. It was simple really, he’d go up to Home Farm for little chats or drinks watching the football like _normal_ best mates did then he’d report back to Cain with any information he’d found out and soon enough they’d cause the downfall of Mr Lord-of-the-Manor and Ross would get brownie points with the fit girl he’d been drooling over for months 

Simple, right? - Wrong.

Ross hadn’t counted on actually liking the bloke, in fact - more than liking him. 

He wondered if it was the money thing, maybe he was lusting over the fifty pound notes stored in the back zipped pocket of Joe’s wallet or maybe he was just a sucker for smooth talking and Joe’s velvet voice. All Ross knew was that he wasn’t gay, and that was the end of it. If he’d let his stare linger on Joe’s arse as he bent down to the fridge to get another can then that was entirely normal and in no-way leaning towards homosexuality. He wondered if Aaron had started that way with Robert, sure Aaron was gay already but Robert, no.. Robert was strictly a ladies man, he’d said it himself. Furiously denying any hint of non-heterosexuality, only relenting when his bit on the side blew his cover and outed him to his Mrs. 

Ross wondered if Joe was strictly heterosexual. 

Ross wondered why it mattered. 

They’d been watching match of the day for the last forty-five minutes with two whiskey tumblers on the glass coffee table after downing nearly the entire bottle between them. Joe was mellow, loose-lipped and relaxed, Ross’ head was telling him this was the opportune moment to get some info from him but the rest of his body was telling him _bet he’s an easy lay when he’s drunk_. It was probably the alcohol that made Ross’ vision blur slightly, a steadily drunk haze that let him lose track of conversation and instead rake his eyes slowly across his fake-best-friend’s body. 

Joe was lounging in black trousers and a dark purple shirt, the top few buttons carelessly opened and allowing a glimpse at the dark chest hair that lay beneath. His hair was tousled and wavy, a far cry from the neat style he’d had a few hours ago most likely wrecked by Joe’s long fingers carding through it absent-mindedly. Ross wondered what it’d be like to push his fingers through his hair, just once, what sound he’d make if he tugged ever so lightly and-.. 

“Are you paying attention?” 

He gulped lightly before stammering his words, a bemused expression on Joe’s face as he tried to talk himself out of the situation, _busted!_.

“You know if you’re going to blatantly eye-fuck me you could at least _try_ and follow my conversation”

It was probably the drink that made Ross’ mind blank, the thought process that usually ended in a sarcastic remark was blocked by excess whiskey consumption and the occasional twitch in his jeans, it definitely wasn’t anything _gay_ \- He isn’t Finn, for fucks sake. He’s lost himself in thought again by the time he registers what is happening, he should reach out and smack Joe Tate right in his fucking gob for what he’s doing but somehow the feel of Joe’s lips on his renders him speechless and it only takes a second for him to decide between shoving him onto the ground or pulling him in deeper.

He chooses the second. 

Joe’s hands are planted firmly on his shoulders as he drags him ever-closer by the scruff of his collar, Joe’s knee is already resting between Ross’ spread thighs and the more he edges closer the more his knee nudges against the semi-hardness between his legs. He figures that it’s just the alcohol, maybe he’s dreaming, if not, it’s just a one-time thing, no one’s going to know, not ever, so he just goes with it. Joe’s mouth tastes hot and warm and a lot like Whiskey and nothing like _girls_ , he has neatly trimmed stubble that grazes roughly against Ross’ own beard and a teasing bite that keeps taking Ross’ bottom lip between his teeth. Ross has never experienced anything so rought and intense, he loves it. 

Joe pulls away as Ross releases a reluctant sigh, his eyes widening slightly and mouth ajar as Joe fumbles with his belt buckle, sliding to his knees as he takes Ross in hand. He thinks he can accept a messy, drunk blow job from a bloke if he throws his head back against the sofa, closes his eyes real tight and thinks of girls but he’s wrong to think he want’s to imagine anything less than Joe’s stubble leaving beard burn on his thighs. 

Joe doesn’t disappoint. 

He’s skilful orally in a way that makes Ross think he’s definitely done it before, his tongue dragging slowly up his length and teasing around his slit before he bobs down to the back of his throat and back up again without so much as a gasp. Ross is eager now, well into it in fact and it doesn’t take him long to slide his fingers into the messy waves on top of Joe’s head. He tugs gently and tries not to rock his hips into Joe too much, but Joe’s already got it covered sat on his knees with his forearm draped protectively over Ross’ hips, moaning and humming along with Ross’ movements. 

It doesn’t take too long for the warm swirl to creep into Ross’ lower half, he moans his warning to Joe who moves faster/deeper/louder pulling the orgasm from the other man as his hips stuttered and white hot liquid painted the inside of his mouth. He swallows the last drop and licks his lips obscenely as Ross tucks himself back into his jeans, a blush evident on his pale cheeks as he sorts himself out. 

“Should I.. er..?” He nods towards Joe’s crotch awkwardly, receiving a light chuckle in response. 

“Get off home, Ross. You’re drunk” Joe teases fondly “We’ve always got tomorrow”

It’s when he’s alone on the empty country lane that he thinks properly about what happened. Still thoroughly aroused and confused as he looks back at Home Farm in the distance, thinks of Joe so calm, cool, collected like he didn’t just suck a blokes cock in the middle of his sitting room and swallow the evidence. Half of him is mortified that he let that happen and the other half is so turned on he wants to leg it back up their to finish the job. But like Joe says, there’s always tomorrow. 

Of course he doesn’t tell Cain what happened. 

Sure it would be great leverage, outing yet another rich lad in a village of vultures because he wouldn’t do what you say but Ross isn’t like that, not really and he knows it wouldn’t just be Joe getting stick. There’s no way he could turn around from this one, there is no accidental way of sticking your cock down someone’s throat no matter how you dress it up. He thinks of Aaron and how he’d been having an affair with Robert for months before they became one big happy family with his kid sister and their kind-of adopted lodger. He couldn’t imagine that, didn’t want that, he wasn’t gay - and even if he was he wasn’t going to play happy families with some rich bloke, no matter how good he was at giving head. 

He tries to put it to the back of his mind, like he’ll go back up to the house the next day and it’ll be magically forgotten, a drunk haze, something they never speak of again but he knows that’s not true, knows by the way Joe watches him hang his coat up the next morning, sips at his coffee and goes about his usual routine - knows by the way Joe ends up in his aura, breathing hot air against his neck, his hands roaming down the inches past Ross’ belly button. 

He knows three months later when he’s blindfolded, bound and thoroughly aroused letting his _boyfriend_ show him a good time.


End file.
